For the Record
by FortuneHost
Summary: [Oneshot] How did Ganondorf rise to power, and what did his people really think of him? A Gerudo scrivener tells her story.


My name is Lady Bravoor Ortroonsdottir, Royal Scribe of Gerudo Fortress. The honoured task, handed down to me from my mother, and to her from hers; is to record our history as it happens and to praise the grandeur of our rulers, currently the illustrious Emperor Ganondorf the First ( _friede sei mit ihm_.) That is my earthly profession, but I feel that I have a higher, divine duty to the truth, to the reality of my people rather than the honeyed falsehoods I dispense in public. I am not brave enough to say these things aloud, for if I did, I would face imprisonment or worse. I cannot risk harm to my family, to my husband or our little Dieter. So by day I deceive, but when night falls and the Moon of Mitternacht rises, I can at least _write_ the truth.

Once our people were warrior-queens, reigning over a vast empire that stretched from the western Sea of Grass to the far east of Kakariko. It was an age of prosperity for every Gerudo, with all others subservient under our iron boots. In time, though, the children of High-Rule rose up, allying themselves with the Sons of the Mountain, and the River Folk. Even some fellow Sisters of the Desert joined this revolt, driven by their own interpretation of ancient scriptures. This rebellion succeeded and even centuries later, in many ways we have never recovered.

Now we huddle around campfires on cold desert nights listening to the elders recount the sagas of old, the tales of the great _Uberfrauen_ , heroines of the past that triumphed over the barbarians of the West and laid low pompous and decadent lords of the East, those pampered farm-folk of Hyrule. We heard these legends, looked to them and compared them to ourselves. We felt great shame as we realized how far we had fallen. We grew wistful for a time we never knew, a world we'd never seen, but it sounded so much better. A better time, a better world. Would that we could live in such interesting times, we thought.

I fear that some think that tyranny arrives in splendid dress arrayed for war, promising to scourge you with scorpions, but no. It arrives as a friend, promising a better life, safer roads, food for your hungry stomach, and claims to be able to deliver a Golden Age. That's exactly what he did. He told us that our grandmothers' tales could be made real. He claimed our aching hunger would soon be sated with all the bounty of Lake Hylia, he promised to clothe us in fine linens, and that we would even swaddle our children in silk. Soon, he said, we could hold our heads high as the mothers to a new Gerudo Empire, and that all we had to do was pledge our lives and undying allegiance to him.

There were those that tried to warn us. My own grandmother cautioned me, citing an old saying, "one who promises the sky will not even give you the dirt." I didn't listen, none of us listened. We were so gullible and so blind that we gave the crown to a despot. We sacrificed freedom for the mere possibility of greatness, and eagerly. Our wounded pride blinded us to what he was turning us into, what we were letting ourselves become. The Hylians who once considered us uneasy allies only decades ago now see us as little better than vandals, thieves, and bandits. I cannot bring myself to blame them.

A male sovereign arrives only once every century or so, and we call him the _Jahrhundertk_ _ø_ _nig_ , the Hundred-Year King. This is not to say we Gerudo bear only daughters, as some old wives' tales claim. There are plenty of Gerudo women who bear sons, myself included. Yet in nearly every case the son of a Gerudo all but mirrors their father. So it is with my child, who possesses a Hylian's flaxen hair and bright blue eyes. Yes, there are sons born to Gerudo mothers, but according to ancient tradition these are not "true" Gerudo. They are labeled _Unters_ _ø_ _hne_ , the "lesser sons." Gods forgive me for questioning the ways of our foremothers, but such a custom strikes me as unjust. I care not what the elders or dusty scrolls say, my son **is** Gerudo! He prays to the East as the Sun rises, he speaks in our language, and his ears are nobly round, not pointed like a Hylians. (Which is not to say I do not love Thracius, my knife-eared husband, and I smile when I think of the way he scowls and his nose scrunches when I tease him by calling him that.) Though it is heresy, I believe that my son, even at a mere eight years old, would serve as a far better king than Ganondorf (FSMI).

But no, according to ancient law only a man with dark skin is considered Gerudo and thus worthy of the crown. Even if that man flaunts those same sacred traditions by refusing to reside in the ancestral palace, building some black _monstrosity_ of a citadel on the ruins of Hyrule Castle. Even if that man is cruel, callous, and spiteful, even if he drags the once-noble name of my people through the muck! I pray that history looks upon us with a kindly and forgiving eye, that the passage of time will absolve us of our sins… but I do not anticipate such a fate.

They say, however, that there is now hope, someone who stands against our king. A man borne of fairies from the Forest-Without-Winter, that rides alone to face the darkness. They say he strikes with the power of Din in his sword-arm, that the love of Nayru shields him, and that his heart beats with the courage of Farore. _"_ _Die Zusteller_ _"_ they call him, Deliverer, and it is whispered that he will save us … but I am too old to believe in tales of fairies or their mythical forest. There will be no knight who rides from those imaginary woodlands to usher in the return of justice.

Should my son find this journal, let me speak to him directly. Know this, Dieter; tyranny and evil are not faced by lone heroes or mystic prophecies. They are defeated by the boldness of many, and the many united. Freedom is hard-won by courageous action, and forever secured after by unceasing vigilance. So if you read this now, be better, be braver than your mother who dares not protest the injustice of her time. I urge you to speak the truth, even when your voice trembles. Resist cruelty and unkindness and one day, perhaps your children, or your children's children, will be able to stand tall and call themselves Gerudo with _justified_ pride. Know that wherever you go, you go with all my love.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. This short piece is intended as a preview for a much larger tale that I am currently working on; a Link/Saria romance and adventure story. Hopefully this piqued your interest for that final product, which I am hoping to complete by mid-to-late 2018. Hopefully it does not take me until 2019 but I won't force it if I think it needs more time and refinement._

 _I will not upload said story until I am fully finished with it, at which point I will post the chapters in weekly intervals. Unless a more viable alternative can be suggested, I will keep interested parties apprised of developments via monthly status updates on my profile._

 _In the interim, feel free to message me on this site, as I ever welcome comments, feedback, or even simply conversation._


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